Standing on My Knees
by LifesLover
Summary: She was so desperate. She had no food, no money, no electricity, and now, no home. It was only a matter of time before she did something completely unlike her. Surrogacy seemed like the best option. /Main: Namora ; Side: AkuRoku, etc/
1. The Part Where I Cry

Disclaimer: Been there, done that.

Title: Standing on My Knees  
Pairings: Main: Namora Side: AkuRoku, etc.  
Summary: She was so desperate. She had no food, no money, no electricity, and now, no home. It was only a matter of time before she did something completely unlike her. Surrogacy seemed like the best option.  
Rating: Teen, for now. This will feature adult concepts, but I believe it's not something that any teenager above the age of fourteen can handle. It all depends on your maturity, and I don't plan on there being any sex.

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**Chapter One: The Part Where I Cry  
**

She didn't have a table. She had no dining room. She had no chairs. She had a couch and a coffee table. She slept on, sat on, worked at, and watched a blank TV screen from her couch.

She had no cable, having been unable to afford such a luxury for over a year now. Her apartment was a miniscule efficiency, with only two doors, one leading to the hallway and out of the building, and one leading to her bathroom, which really gave new meaning to the words water closet.

And this miniscule efficiency… she was unable to afford the rent. Her electricity had been cut off two days before. She would have worried about the fact that her refrigerator no longer worked, thus no longer keeping her food fresh, if it were not for the fact that she couldn't afford groceries, either.

She had no lights, she couldn't watch a DVD from her TV, not only because she had no electricity, but also because she had no DVDs. She had one VHS from bygone days, when she was a child and DVDs were non-existent. Still, she didn't particularly feel that Beauty and the Beast would be the best thing to watch if she were able to. Too many good memories were wrapped up in a VHS that no longer had the writing on it, it being so old that the white letters had been rubbed off a long time ago.

Naminé was twenty-four years old, and she was staring into the gaping maw of homelessness. Scattered on her coffee table, which she knew she should try and sell, along with her TV, were bills upon bills, all with a red, angry stamp of PAST DUE pressed into the white pages.

She had no water; it having been shut off along with all of her other utilities. Trying to make sense of her finances wasn't confusing. She had no finances, just mountains of debts piling up higher. Her credit was ruined, she had been reported to the credit bureau several times over, and if she had electricity and a phone, she was sure that her phone would ring off the hook with credit companies demanding their money.

But the whole point of everything was that she had no money. Her terrible job, which paid her only four dollars an hour plus tips, could barely cover her rent and utilities. That is, until her hours were cut down to the bone, to the point where it cost more in gas to drive to her work than she was making. Still, she made do. She sold her car, and bought a cheap bus pass, something that she knew she should have done long before. Still, it wasn't enough because, in the end, her terrible job, which she desperately needed, she lost.

It had never once occurred to Naminé that Pettle Pizza Emporium would go out of business, leaving all of their employees destitute and jobless. Still, what did she expect, when they only got two customers a night and her hours had been cut down to ten a week? Even now, she was still so naïve.

And now, with no job, and no way of paying for anything, Naminé just didn't know what to do. She was going to be evicted next month when she couldn't come up with the rent, she knew it. There were no second chances, not with her landlord. With some of the last of her money, Naminé had, in desperation, bought a newspaper.

Even though she had hit the pavement over a week ago in search of a new job, one that might possibly pay her a little more and that had the job security of not suddenly going out of business, she hadn't found much. Still, she hadn't been picky- she'd gotten past picky long ago.

But it was hopeless. McDonalds wouldn't even hire her, let alone somewhere close by that she could walk to and be able to get rid of her bus pass, which was now draining on the fifty dollars that she had left.

So, in her last bid for a job, Naminé had bought a newspaper, hoping that an ad for employment would pop up: one that she knew she'd be able to get. Still, having been rejected by McDonalds, her ego had suffered a terrible blow.

She had the ads section opened, having spread the contents of the newspaper across her couch. It seemed, more and more now, that having a bachelor's degree wasn't enough to get a job, and Naminé didn't even have that. She'd barely finished high school, and she certainly had never entertained the thought of going to college. She just couldn't afford it. She couldn't afford to take out loans, knowing that she'd have to pay them back once she finished college. And while Naminé was smart, she'd just never really had the gumption or drive to use her smarts for school.

She was regretting that now.

She sighed, eyes leaving the ads section and staring into the black screen of her TV. She knew she should sell it. But it wasn't worth much, being so old that it didn't even have a VHS player attached, let alone a DVD player.

She felt like she was drowning, staring into an abyss and knowing that each moment led her closer and closer to the edge. She was going to fall and it all felt so hopeless. She needed money, and she needed it fast.

She cracked her fingers, sighing and stretching her hands above her heads. She uncurled herself from her couch, newspaper falling to the floor, and walked into her adjoining kitchen, though it really wasn't much of a kitchen. She grabbed the one glass she had and went to get water from the faucet before realizing that she didn't even have water anymore.

Her stomach growled, her throat itched, and her entire body felt grimy, not having seen the inside of a shower in a week. How had this happened? What had happened to her dreams? How was she standing in the miniscule kitchen of a miniscule one-room apartment in the worst part of town, with no job, no money, and no water?

She sunk to the floor, breaths shuddering in and out, tears silently slipping from her eyes and falling down her cheeks. She was so afraid and she had no one to turn to, no one to comfort her or tell her that everything would be alright.

And then she suddenly laughed. "Oh, God," she breathed, "I'm losing it on my kitchen floor."

Life wasn't supposed to be like this. It was hard, sure. But it wasn't supposed to be hopeless. She wasn't supposed to feel that it would be easier being dead than living through this hell. But she didn't want to die. She had no one who'd mourn her. She couldn't die knowing that she wouldn't be found, probably, for days. She wouldn't be missed, and she wouldn't be mourned. Twenty-four years of life, and she had no one to show for it.

The thought was disconcerting and alarming.

She slipped her legs out from beneath her, bending them at the knee because her kitchen was so small that she couldn't fully stretch out her legs, even though she was a petite five feet. And she shook, racked with sobs that wouldn't come out, that holed up in her throat and that felt like they were stretching her throat. She laid her head on her knees, crying silently, fingers slipping into her white-blonde hair, tugging. The newspaper wasn't working. She hadn't found anything.

Naminé was dying; dying and she couldn't do anything about it.

What a sad, sad fate for the pretty little woman.

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Why did it always seem as though everything that could go wrong did? Had Murphy's Law really singled her out? Naminé had thought that things couldn't have gotten worse. But, unfortunately, they did. She was staring at an eviction notice, a full two weeks before the end of the month. Did her landlord really have the right to evict her when she had paid, on time, her rent for the month they were currently in?

Naminé banged her head against the door to apartment, keys forgotten in her hand. It had just been tacked up there, for the entire world to see, like her laundry was hanging outside her window. She probably would have been humiliated about this cold eviction notice, if it were not for the fact that she was in a full blown panic attack, her home being ripped out from underneath her feet causing her breath to shorten, her head to swim, and her feet to shake.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now, Naminé thought, her latest newspaper slipping from her grasp, along with her keys, jangling to the floor in a colorful mess. Tears spilled out, pattering to the ground, landing on her keys, slipping over the little keychain her mother had bought her when she'd graduated from high school, a red horse, her school's mascot.

She grabbed at the doorknob, breath shuddering, sobs ripping from her gut. She was falling apart in the middle of her building's hallway. She desperately grabbed for her keys and newspaper, jamming the lone little key in the knob and turning, stumbling into her apartment and falling to the ground, cries coming faster and harder, body shaking with the force of her sobs.

She couldn't be homeless. Where would she go? Would she sleep in a box, underneath a newspaper on a park bench? Every horrific homeless stereotype just flew through her head. Being homeless was just not an option, at least not a permanent one.

Her body calmed, sobs dwindling to hiccupping breaths. She grabbed at her wrist, feeling the bones poke at her. Having been insanely thin all of her life, she was now emaciated, unhealthy, with her skin a dull yellow and her eyes were no longer a sparkling blue, but rather completely flat. Her hair was combed, hanging in lank, greasy strands, the white-blonde just a glimmer of how shiny and pristine it used to be.

She had once been beautiful. She'd had everything and her life had been going so well. She didn't have any of that now. She had a paper and an eviction notice, with bills scattered on her coffee table. Life had gone so wrong.

She pressed her hand to her mouth, lips crackling, dry and parched. She closed her eyes, still on the floor, still on her knees. She tilted her head back, and wondered if this was going to be it. She opened her eyes and stared at her ceiling, slowly falling back until she was lying on her back, counting the cracks and water spots until her head swam, until her eyes closed, and she fell asleep, completely exhausted.

When she awoke next, her one lone window was letting in beams of moonlight, darkness hanging heavy over the apartment. She lay there, willing her body to move. She was just so tired, though. Naminé moved her hand, brushing up against the newspaper.

She grabbed it, turning immediately to the ads section, skimming over cars being sold, ads for everything she couldn't afford. Where was the employment section?

She tossed away parts of the newspaper she didn't need. At this point, she'd do anything.

And anything was what she got.

She slowly sat up, hair spilling over her shoulders. She got up fully and made her way to her couch-slash-bed.

Her eyes scanned the ad, boring over the deep black letters.

It was not the first type she'd seen of the ad, since she'd been buying a newspaper now for the last three weeks, and there was at least one in each newspaper. But she'd dismissed it before, believing that finding a job wouldn't be so hard: that she wouldn't have to get so desperate. But her options were out, and if she had been non-picky before, she was now so not picky she was close to hiking up her skirt and walking the streets for a guy to buy any services she could offer.

This didn't seem honestly much better, but it paid better and Naminé had no choice.

She sniffled quietly and fished through her purse for change, bringing out fifty cents and writing down the number on the ad, walking down to the front of her apartment building and inserting the money into the pay phone right at the corner.

"Hello?" a quiet voice answered, sounding quite young and male.

Naminé sighed. "Yes, hello. My name is Naminé and I was calling in regards to your ad in the newspaper."

"Our ad?" the voice perked up. "We've been putting the ad in now for a while, but we haven't had any takers. Why don't we meet somewhere and discuss matters?" the man went on, sounding very excited.

Naminé nodded, even though there was no one around to see. "Sure, that's fine." She wracked her brain for a second. "How about _Moogle Coffee House!._ You know, the one on Core Street?"

"Ah, yes, I know the place. How about we meet tonight around... seven?" the voice went on, "I won't be the only one coming, so we'll have to get ready to meet you."

"Yeah, sure, that's fine," Naminé agreed, knowing that she had to be agreeable to anything they sent her way. She couldn't lose this opportunity.

They hung up, and Naminé made her way back up to her apartment, going over to her dresser and taking out her only dress, wrinkled from months of sitting in a drawer. It was white, with lace along the bottom. It was showing its wear and tear, but at least Naminé didn't have to worry about it not fitting.

She put on her only earrings, and situated the necklace she never took off, it being too special to lose. She grabbed her purse, slipped into a pair of shoes, and walked out the door, knowing that she'd have to walk to the coffee house, since her bus pass was null and void now, too. She left the newspaper ad on the coffee table, the black letters glaring up at nothing.

**Surrogate Mother for Hire**

**Looking for a blonde woman around the ages of 20-27**

**Other information to be disclosed at meeting**

**Call (555) 273-1913**

**

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**A/N: So, short beginning, and I don't know how long the chapters are going to be anyway. I also don't know exactly where I'm going with this, but I saw an ad like this once in a newspaper, and it seemed like such a good idea and a great opportunity to write something for my favorite het pairing, Namora. Reviews are read, appreciated, loved, and replied, even if I don't do so in a timely fashion.


	2. The Part Where I Meet Them

Disclaimer: Not mine, even in my dreams.

A/N: Wow, fastest I've updated since I first came onto FFNet. It'd be a safe bet to warn you that this most likely won't happen again. The only reason why this came so fast is because I wasn't too nitpicky about it. Yes, I hate it, but I can't help hating what I write anyway. I'm sorry for the stiff dialogue. It's been a while for me, so I'm getting back into the swing of things. It should be less stiff as the story goes along.

Thank you to the lovely reviewers. 4 is so much more than I was expecting, considering the pairing and the subject matter. I realize that most of my readers aren't into het and/or this pairing, so I really appreciate the reviews, faves, and alerts. **

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**Chapter Two: The Part Where I Meet Them**

There was something warm about the place. It was not just in the buttery yellow walls, with a thin stripe of brown dashed horizontally in the middle, but rather the homey atmosphere. Girls and boys in striped shirts with little visors on their heads greeted each customer as they walked in with a smile on their face, and with the whir of coffee machines and the hum of conversation dancing in the background, it was an incredibly relaxing place.

Naminé stepped into the store, feeling the soothing atmosphere, but she was much too nervous to really appreciate it, or take it in. She walked up, smiling queasily when a girl behind the counter asked for her order, and received her free cup of water. She was so glad that in a world where many would charge for water, there were some with decency still in their souls.

She walked to a back table, slowly sipping her water, thankful for its cooling touch on her cracked lips, and waited nervously. She set her cup down and grabbed a napkin, worrying it to little bits between her fingers, a nervous habit from her childhood that she had thought she'd gotten rid of long before. She had miscalculated the distance and time it would take her to walk here and thus had arrived more than a half hour early.

The extra time might have been put to use to calm her down, but instead, all it was doing was making the knots in her stomach twist harder. What if they didn't like her? What if she was too skinny? What if they decided that they could find someone healthier, who didn't have all the baggage she carried? What if they accepted it? Would she really go through with this? Could she really go through with this? All these thoughts and more whizzed through her brain, going at a hundred miles a minute, causing her more and more anxiety until she felt like crying, she was in so much distress.

This was a huge decision to take and she had done it without thinking properly. She knew she didn't have much time, but surely this was something to take more seriously than a meeting at the _Moogle Coffee House! _suggested! What was she doing? She wasn't equipped to handle something of this magnitude. She was crazy to have thought of this, crazy to have called the man, crazy to think that something good might come of this.

Naminé hurriedly scraped her chair back, grabbing the small cup of water and throwing it in the trash receptacle, dashing out the door and veering to the left. Then she stopped. She closed her eyes, tears slipping out. What if this was the right thing to do? She could… be of use to someone, finally. She slipped her hand down to her stomach, feeling the concavity. What if she could bring someone unimaginable joy? She'd be able to eat, to continue paying rent on her apartment, have about a year to make a decision as to what she'd do with her life. Maybe she could go to school, get an education. And she'd be helping someone else….

But accepting money for something like this felt so dirty, and if she did go through with it, would she be able to part with a child she had bonded with for nine months? She stood there, deliberating at the corner of the street next to the insignificant coffee shop, hand placed gently over the vicinity of her stomach, eyes closed and mouth trembling.

She started when she heard the laughing tones of a young man, and the deeper tones of another man going into the coffee shop behind her, bell jingling on the door as they stepped inside. Her hand dropped to her side, and she curled it into a tiny fist.

She couldn't know without trying. Maybe this was all a hoax to meet available women, maybe it was more. But she'd never know anything if she didn't go back in there and meet with the man she had spoken to earlier.

She turned around and with deliberate steps marched back to the coffee shop, wrenching open the door and nearly storming inside, before stopping abruptly. She had never thought of how the two were going to know who to meet. All the man knew was that she might be blonde, in accordance with the ad, and she knew nothing at all, besides the fact that he was young and would not be alone, if their conversation from before was anything to go by.

Would she just stand by the door and wait for men to come in and then accost them, asking if they were the one she was meant to meet? That didn't sound like such a good idea when thinking it through in her head. She stood by the door, once again mulling things over in her mind.

"Excuse me," said a voice from beside her, startling Naminé and causing her to whirl around in embarrassment.

Behind her sat a young blond man with laughing blue eyes, and an older red haired man with toxic looking green eyes. She was sure that the man probably wouldn't appreciate her description but Naminé couldn't always help her wayward mind.

She looked at them apprehensively and the younger blond man smiled. "Might you be the woman I was talking to earlier on the phone?" he asked calmly, hands cupping his small cup, the man next to him sliding his arm closest to the blond around his chair, as though in a show of possession.

She sighed, wondering why it didn't occur to her that perhaps the man who would be hiring her… services… would be gay. It seemed like a pretty logical step, though others weren't unheard of. Many women couldn't get pregnant. But men certainly couldn't.

"Might you be the man I was talking to earlier?" she replied back, slinking a hand up to her face to push a strand of her blond hair back behind her ear, feeling self-conscious at the scrutiny of the two men.

The blond man smiled brilliantly. "Maybe I am, if it concerns an ad in a newspaper…" he said, trailing off, smile still across his face.

She smiled back tentatively as her hand now worried at the skin of the wrist attached to her other hand. Naminé stepped forward, coming to a stop across the table from the couple, and reached her hand across.

"My name is Naminé," she said clearly.

The blond man stood with a smile and took her hand, shaking it firmly, saying, "And I am Roxas. This is Axel, my… partner."

The two smiled at each other before Naminé turned slightly to greet Axel, who merely nodded his head at her. Roxas motioned for her to take a seat, and Naminé hurriedly sat down, before she changed her mind yet again and hurried out of the shop.

Roxas smiled. "To be honest, I was starting to worry about anyone answering our ad," he started, hands coming back up to cup his coffee. "We realize that this is… unconventional at best, but we were starting to get desperate," he continued.

Naminé nodded, not knowing what to say.

Roxas continued. "It's not easy being a homosexual couple when adopting. Even for straight couples, it can take a long time, and we didn't want to deal with the hassle of adopting and the harassment we were sure we'd face. And it's not as though either of us can get pregnant, though I'm sure Axel would love to try," he smirked here, elbowing Axel lightly in the stomach.

Axel took it graciously and opened his mouth to continue. "Forgive him, he knows not what he says," he calmly said, body leaning forward onto the table. "You'll forgive me for being a little frank, but honestly… you look extremely unhealthy. Plus, this isn't something to take lightly and I have a feeling that you're quaking in your shoes."

"Axel!" Roxas said, admonishing the man. He turned back to Naminé with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about this idiot; he knows not what he says. Anyway, to get back to what I was saying before he decided to interrupt, we've been thinking of this option for a little while now and decided to take our chances with an ad in the newspaper, thinking we'd get more local luck this way."

Naminé just nodded nervously, not knowing what to say. What could she say? 'Hi, I'm willing to have a baby for you, if you'll pay me, of course.' She just stayed quiet, and Roxas continued.

"I realize that this might be a lot to take in, but we're so glad that you came. I was starting to really wonder if we'd made the wrong choice," Roxas said, smiling lightly.

Naminé nodded again. "How… how long have you been thinking about this?" she asked, tongue licking at her lips nervously.

Roxas shrugged, lips pursing in thought, "I suppose for a little over a year and a half," he finally answered. "We've been dating for about four years now, and just feel that it's time to expand the family."

"W-well," she said, "how do I do?"

Roxas smiled. "Well, you look a lot like me, so that helps. What Axel and I have been thinking of is that we would use Axel's sperm to impregnate you, because of his more unique features. We want a child who will… look like us, hence why we wanted someone who was blonde. And you could be my twin, we look so alike."

Naminé jerked a bit in her seat, tension practically rolling off of her in waves. It was quite obvious to the two men that she was extremely nervous. After all, she was not only selling her egg, but the use of her body as an incubator for night months. Who wouldn't be nervous?

"We're probably going about this all the wrong way," she said.

Roxas laughed and Axel frowned. "I'm sure that any way could be misconstrued as the wrong way. Still, so long as we're all happy and satisfied in the end, what could it hurt?"

"Still, we should probably talk more in-depth about this. Like… how much I'll be compensated, where I'll be staying, what terms and conditions there might be," she rattled off, surprised at how much she'd been able to think about, considering that her mind was so frazzled right now.

Axel snorted. "She's got a point, Roxas," he said, opening his mouth for the first time in minutes. "Look, Naminé, I'm sure you're a great person, but if you can't be committed to this, we'll have to find someone else. I realize that this is asking a lot, and it's not an ideal situation in any way, but it's what we have to work with as a homosexual couple and we really need a surrogate mother who'll be able to stick with us."

"Of- of course," she stuttered. "I know I'm probably not making a very good impression to you right now, but when I was a little girl, this wasn't exactly what I had planned with my life." She laid her head on her hands. "But I'm desperate.

I might as well be frank with you," she continued, head coming up to look the two in the eyes. "I'm broke. I lost my horrible job, I'm being evicted even though I paid this month's rent, which I'm sure is illegal since I know he won't pay back the rent I gave him, and I've hit rock bottom. This isn't what I want, but I don't have very many choices now."

Roxas' eyes had widened. "I'm sorry to hear about that. We live quite comfortably off of Axel's income, so you have no worries about being paid. We also will set you up a room in our home, so we can monitor the baby more closely. It's not that we don't trust you, it's just that-."

"I understand," Naminé said, cutting him off. "I think we should move on. If you're willing for me to be the surrogate mother, then I'm willing to be the surrogate mother."

Roxas smiled. "Well, Axel and I would like to talk this over. Could we call you in the morning with our decision?"

Naminé began to nod, before remembering and shaking her head. "I have no electricity and no phone," she said. "Maybe I could contact you, or we could meet up again, here?

Roxas looked towards Axel and, when Axel merely shrugged, smiled at Naminé. "Perhaps you'd like to stay the night at our place?" he offered. "It can't be any fun living without electricity. Plus, Axel's a chef. He'll cook us some dinner and I'm sure you must be hungry," he went on.

She deliberated for a moment. After all, she would be going to a stranger's home, sleeping in a bed in a stranger's home, eating a stranger's food. How could she be sure they were trustworthy? Then again, how could they be sure that she was trustworthy? She could easily steal some of their possessions and slip away into the night with no one being the wiser. Of course, Naminé was not a criminal and the thought of such an act left her even queasier than before, but still, they had no way of knowing.

But they had to trust each other, if they were going to go through with this. Naminé was almost certain that they were going to go through with this. She, at the very least, hoped they did: she had no other options, it felt like, and she didn't know what she'd do if they turned her down.

Naminé nodded. "That would be nice," she said. "It's not often that people are so trustworthy or willing to help."

"Well, we do things differently. Besides, you look honest, and your eyes don't seem to be lying," Roxas answered her, grabbing their things and standing up. Naminé did the same, along with Axel.

If Naminé were to be honest with herself, she'd realize that she wasn't so nervous anymore. Roxas seemed like such a nice person, and while Axel didn't talk much, he made her nervous only because of his protectiveness of Roxas. She felt like maybe things would go well for her, for once. She hadn't had a decent meal in a long time.

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A/N: Fail is fail, but hopefully it'll get better. Reviews are read, loved, and replied. Thanks!

Review Corner: **axeleah**, **crackedradio**, **Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare**, and **butterflylavender**.


	3. The Part Where I Meet Him

**Disclaimer**: This is getting old.

**A/N: **Gosh, wow, I'm on a roll. Third update in less than a month. Let's hope I can keep this up, guys. I remember that I liked writing. Why'd I stop? Anyway, expect an update to The Devil Can Wait (sorry for taking so long on that) and maybe a couple of new oneshots soon and even a new multi-chapter to replace HTLAS and BLP. Maybe I'll even update Growing Up Baby. Get my ducks all lined up in a row and all that. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all of the support from you guys. It means a lot.

**

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Chapter Three: The Part Where I Meet Him**

Roxas and Axel had done well for themselves over the years. Axel had graduated with a degree in computer science, and he made a good bit of money with his job as a software architect. Roxas didn't need to work, since they could live quite comfortably on Axel's salary alone, but Roxas loved writing, so he dabbled with that. So far, he'd had one book of poetry published, and nothing more.

"I learned soon after that poetry just wasn't all that popular," he said, turning in his seat to smile at Naminé, who had been listening to his explanation from the backseat of their car. "I'm trying new things now, since I never really thought I was all that good at poetry anyway. I haven't really gotten anywhere, though."

Naminé just smiled as Roxas turned back around to smile at Axel. They were close to her age, and yet they had been so much more successful than her. They had each other, and their interests, and their careers, and life was good for them.

Why hadn't her life gone that way? Was college really so important? Should she have gone like her mother had told her to before she died? Naminé didn't know. All she could do was pick up the pieces and stop regretting what she should have done but didn't do.

"Ah, we're here, Naminé," Roxas said, unintentionally interrupting Naminé's inner turmoil; not that Naminé wasn't incredibly grateful to him for having done so.

Naminé looked out the window as the car pulled into the driveway. The house sat on a little hill, the back appearing to drop down as the hill dropped down. There were trees dotting the yard and, Naminé was pleased to see, flowers had been planted along the base of the tree. It was, all in all, a very picturesque scene and one that sent a soothing arrow of calm throughout Naminé's body.

Naminé exited from the car, legs trembling in excitement. Roxas came up beside her. "The flowers are my brother's doing. He loves the little details like that. I should warn you, though," Roxas said as he turned to her, "he spends most of his time here rather than at home, so don't be surprised if you see another guy around here. He's uninvited but not unwanted."

Axel closed his door as he stepped out, locking the car. He came around the car and placed his arm around Roxas' neck. "Yeah, we can't seem to get rid of the guy so we stopped trying. Plus, he's a really good cook: much better than me and Roxy here. I think we'd go hungry or live off of take-out if he didn't come over every day."

"And Axel doesn't need any more reason to be any skinnier than he already is."

"Exactly," Axel interrupted with a wise nod.

Naminé giggled. "What's your brother's name?" she inquired as the three made their way to the front door. Painted a lazy river green, the door featured a stained glass inset at the top of the door and paned glass running along the sides of the door. Were it not for the curtains that covered the little windows, Naminé would have been able to see into the inside of the house.

"What cute curtains," she murmured as they stepped up to the door. Roxas heard her and smiled, and then grimaced.

"Thanks," he answered, "but I wouldn't talk about them in front of Sora, okay? His ex-girlfriend made them for us and, well, she's still a sore subject where he's concerned."

"Oh," Naminé said, nodding her head. "I understand: my lips are sealed."

"Good," Roxas replied.

"You have a gorgeous home," she said as she stepped through the front door into the spacious foyer. As she looked around she saw an L-shaped stairs that went up to the second floor and off to the side there was an entrance to what was obviously a dining room.

"Thanks! My mom refused to let us live in a man cave."

Naminé would have replied if not for Axel's glower and mutter about meddling mothers. Roxas hit him before making his way into the dining room and on through to the kitchen through another arched doorway. "Hey, Naminé, come in here with me. We'll get you a sandwich. I can't make much more, unfortunately."

Naminé hesitated before following him. Should she tell him that she could cook? Would it be considered rude to ask to be allowed to make her own dinner? Naminé had no real idea, since she had never dealt with this type of situation before.

"Um…," she began, getting more nervous as Roxas turned to face her, closing the door to his refrigerator in the process, "Um… well… would you like me to cook?" she offered, hands going behind her back. She almost felt like shuffling in place. Why was she so nervous? She was usually never this nervous.

"You can cook?" Roxas asked, obviously surprised.

"My dad taught me a bunch of recipes before he died," she replied, nodding as she fiddled with her fingers: yet another nervous habit of hers.

Roxas sat down on a stool next to their island bar. "What can you make?"

"Oh, a bunch of things!" Naminé answered. "What do you want? I could probably make it or learn how to."

"Can you make pork chops?" Axel interrupted, appearing through the other door into the kitchen. If Naminé craned her neck, she could sort of see a sofa and maybe a TV armoire. But she didn't want to appear too curious.

"Depends: do you want them grilled or baked?"

Axel appeared to think it over. "How about baked? People never seem to grill them right."

"Well, I can bake them, but you'd have to not only have pork chops but also have them thawed."

Roxas piped up this time. "Oh, that's fine. Axel took out pork chops this morning as a hint to Sora for dinner, but since Sora isn't here with food on the table, the pork chops will go bad if they're not made."

Axel ambled over to the refrigerator and, opening up the door, pulled out a packet of four pork chops.

"Okay, well, that's one down. What kind of seasoning do you have?" Naminé asked.

Roxas pointed over to the side cabinet. Opening it up, Naminé came upon a sight of everything she could ever want for seasoning. "Okay, you have it all. That'll make this easy," she continued as she started to pull down garlic powder, salt, MSG, and pepper. "What about breadcrumbs?"

"Here you go," Axel said as he went to the pantry and pulled out a tin of breadcrumbs. They really did have everything. This would make things much more enjoyable for her.

"It's surprising that you have all of this, since you say you guys don't cook," she cautiously began, starting to poor the ingredients into a Ziploc baggy.

"Well, Sora does cook, and he absolutely insisted that he have anything he could ever want to cook with." Roxas smiled. "We decided to humor him, since it meant great food for us."

"Ah, a guy and his stomach," she said, smiling as she dunked the pork chops into the bread mixture before placing them on a baking sheet that Axel had extracted from underneath the stove for her.

Roxas shrugged sheepishly. "Guilty as charged."

Naminé smiled slowly. She felt so comfortable here, working on making dinner for herself and the two men who had welcomed her into their home. She was nowhere near as nervous as she had been before: but that could also be due to the fact that she was doing something she was familiar with. Cooking had been a huge pastime in her family, and her father had loved showing her the ropes.

Naminé's throat tightened up as she thought of her father. He had been in a car accident when she was fourteen. Her mother had never been the same after they had lost him. Naminé sniffed as she shook the bag of ingredients. It was almost like her mother had given up on living after he was gone. Sure, she loved and still took care of Naminé, but it was as though she was doing everything out of duty.

She hadn't been very surprised when her mother died when she was nineteen. It was like her mother's heart had just given up, hearty and hale though she had always been. Just like that, she had been left alone in a big world that wasn't going to give her any breaks.

Finally she was finished with the last pork chop and she placed them in the oven, where they'd bake for an hour before being ready. She shook away her thoughts. There was no sense in dwelling on the past, she tried to tell herself. It was gone and she was in the now and it had to stay that way.

She turned around and watched as Axel and Roxas conversed together. It was so obvious the two were in love. They weren't overly affectionate, and neither were particularly effeminate (something that Naminé had always guiltily assumed gay men would be like), but Roxas' eyes shined in a way that they hadn't when he was talking to her and Axel actually had a smile on his face, something that he hadn't shown since Naminé had met him at the café.

Naminé smiled lightly. "Well," she said, interrupting the two. They turned to her.

"Hey, are they done?"

"Well," Naminé began, "they're done going through the prep work. They're gonna be in there for an hour. Now, do you guys have macaroni? And what about cheese?" she asked.

Roxas looked quizzical. "What do you need that for?" he asked.

"Well, in my family, you never had pork chops without macaroni and cheese. Would you like me to make it?"

Axel shrugged. "Go right ahead," he said. "I, however, am going to go take a shower."

Roxas waved as Axel left before turning his attention back to Naminé, who had not moved during that time. "Are you going to make it?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, appearing to come out of a daze, "but that doesn't get started until about half an hour in, so, until then, I've got nothing to do."

Roxas smiled. "Okay, why don't you come over here and sit down?" He waved a hand towards her. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about your life?"

Naminé grimaced and moved closer, sitting down next to him. "Well, uh… there's not much to tell."

"There's plenty to tell: there's always plenty to tell," he murmured, glancing at her.

"I'm 24 years old and I've never done anything with my life," Naminé began. "I, uh… I lost my parents one after the other, and when they were both gone, I just felt so… lost." She glanced down at the pretty granite counter. "I didn't go to college: I didn't feel like it. My grades had slipped so much during high school after my father died that I didn't want to do the work necessary to go to college. And then my mom died and I was left all alone.

"I just lost my job and my paycheck to paycheck way of life wasn't cutting it, so I went through the newspaper and I saw an ad for surrogacy and I called you and there you have it," she continued.

Roxas shrugged. "Doesn't it scare you, to have someone else's kid?"

Naminé nodded frantically. "Hell yes! But I, uh… I think that this could be my chance to turn my life around. I mean, this all sounds really deep and, uh, all that, but this is money that could really help, if I use it correctly, you know? Maybe I'll… go to college, finally. I never wanted to but apparently you can't get anywhere in life without a degree clutched your hand."

He smiled. "Well, maybe this will be a good chance. Uh, I'm gonna go check on Axel, okay? Gosh, wow, that smell's fantastic!" he said, sniffing as he waved and walked out of the kitchen.

Naminé smiled softly, playing her fingers across the counter top. She would love to be able to live in this kind of area. She stayed seated, turning her head this way and that, looking at all the kitchen had to offer. It was a chef's dream come true, she knew. Her father would have loved this place.

* * *

That night, Roxas had handed her a pair of his pajamas before going off to bed. Naminé stood in the doorway to the guest bedroom they'd shown her to, just gazing around. It had been a long time since she'd seen a real bed, since she'd been in an actual bedroom, even.

She crossed hesitantly to the bed, carefully sitting down on the soft fabric of the bedspread. She let out a small moan at the feel before clamping a hand across her mouth in surprise.

"Oh, good lord, Naminé," she spoke to herself. "You're going to make yourself out to be a psycho before long."

She sighed, falling back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling above. Even the ceiling was fancy! With its oval cut out and the hand-detailed work along the edge, it was obvious that Naminé was far out of her league.

How had the two ever been able to afford such a wealthy home? And they wanted to bring a baby into the equation as well?

How was she going to ever measure up? They'd probably kick her out in the morning, saying that they'd made a terrible mistake and that she was not at all what they were looking for and if she would kindly see fit to leave and never come back, they'd be most appreciative.

But they were so nice, she thought, Roxas, especially. He had such a calming smile: every muscle in Naminé's body relaxed when he was around. And while she could tell that Axel didn't really particularly like her, he didn't seem to hate her.

Naminé was just so scared. After tonight, where would she go? Sure, she'd had her first real meal in over a year, and her belly was satisfied and not thinking of food, but she'd be hungry again by morning, and if they kicked her out, she'd have to go back to her apartment, pack up her measly belongings and then sell it all off and live in a cardboard box for the rest of her life.

She sighed again before rolling off the bed and slipping into Roxas' pajamas. They were big on her and she smiled as the sleeves covered her hands completely. But they were comfy and warm and Naminé wanted to just curl up in them and never take them off ever again.

She crossed over to the dresser, looking at the mirror above it. Her gaunt face stared back. A smudge of dirt on her collarbone, sallow skin, and deadened eyes. She looked, and felt, like a corpse. Naminé rubbed at the dirty spot, feeling like such a failure.

Naminé would have stood there for longer if not for a noise coming from downstairs. She jerked back, pushing against the dresser in her panic. She stared out the bedroom door and she could see light streaming from downstairs through the banister right in front of her door. She swallowed before shuffling into the hallway and peering over the banister.

The light was coming from the kitchen and as she stood there, a string of muttered curses floated up to her. Naminé walked alongside the banister towards the stairs, hand lightly passing over the rail before making her way down the stairs and over to the arched doorway into the kitchen.

She poked her head in, watching as a man stooped over, sticking his head into the refrigerator. He had a shock of brown hair that stuck up all over in the back and he was rubbing a hand over one particular area of his scalp, apparently to assuage pain, if the curses he was still muttering were anything to go by.

But who was he? Neither Roxas nor Axel had brown hair, so who was he? Naminé gathered up her courage and walked in.

"Who're you?" she called out.

The man with the brown hair jumped, hitting his head against the door, causing Naminé to jump back in surprise. He turned around to stare at her.

"I think that's a damn good question; who are you?" he answered, still rubbing his head. "You scared me half to death. What are you doing in my brother's home wearing… my brother's pajamas? Now that's one I've never heard of before!"

Naminé visibly relaxed. "Oh… you must be Sora, right? Roxas said something about you coming by tonight. But I think he was expecting you earlier."

"Yeah, I'm Sora, but that still doesn't answer who you are. Roxas has never mentioned you before."

"Oh!" she gasped. "I'm so sorry. Uh, I'm Naminé. I, uh, I'm the woman who answered the ad for the surrogacy thing."

Sora nodded. "Oh, okay, why aren't you in your own home?"

"Uh, Roxas said that I could stay over tonight because we'd want to talk in the morning about what to do next and I don't have a phone so he wouldn't have been able to contact me."

"Oh, well, um, if Roxas let you in, I suppose I can't very well kick you out or call the police on you now can I?" he said, grinning and sticking out a hand for her to shake.

"I'd really rather you didn't," Naminé answered before smiling herself and shaking his hand. "I'm sorry about scaring you but I didn't know who you were since it's obvious that you're neither Roxas or Axel and I just got frightened."

Sora shrugged. "Nah, that's okay," he said, smile growing bigger, "it's my fault for being so ridiculously late to begin with. I was supposed to come over and cook dinner, but I had to deal with some unexpected stuff, so I just now came and was checking to see if I could get anything to eat in their fridge." He grinned sheepishly. "I had a bit of an accident with the fridge door, I bet you can tell."

"Yeah, I can," Naminé said, inspecting the wound, "possibly because you're bleeding."

Sora jerked his hand up to the tender area, feeling around before bringing his hand back down. "Well, what do you know, I am bleeding."

"Oh, um, here, let me see if I can bandage that up. Do you know where they keep the first aid kit?" Naminé asked, rushing around the island counter to stand beside Sora, pushing his hand away and checking out the cut. "It's not too bad: I should be able to clean it up really easily."

Sora smiled before pointing to a cabinet next to the sink. "It's in there."

"I'm surprised, actually," Naminé said as she went over to the cabinet to grab the kit. "I don't think I've ever seen someone get cut on a fridge door before."

Sora laughed before sitting down at a chair. Naminé was significantly shorter than he was. "Well, neither have I, but I guess there's a first for everything. I don't think it was bleeding, though, until the second time I hit it."

Naminé grimaced. "I really am so sorry about that," she went on, dabbing the cut with a cotton swab doused in alcohol.

Sora hissed before shaking his head. "Nah, it's not your fault: you couldn't have known this would happen. I was being stupid and clumsy, like always."

She smiled. "Why do I not believe you?" she said, looking down to find him looking up.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," she whispered back before smiling and returning to cleaning the wound. Inwardly, though, her stomach was a mess. Sora was cute and had the same calming smile that Roxas did.

Ooh, wow, it was a fine day in the gene pool when those two were made, she thought, willing the butterflies in her stomach to calm down. So what if he was cute and had a cute grin and smiling eyes and a small little birthmark on his neck right below his hairline that looked an awful lot like a little crown? Naminé refused to be pulled in. She didn't have time for guy trouble, right?

She cleared her throat. "Uh, all done," she said, feeling like she was a minute away from stuttering.

She shuffled back, going back over to the sink to rinse her hands and then throw away the cotton swabs and wrappers from the band-aid.

"Hey," Sora said, still sitting down, watching her flit to and fro, "thanks for helping out. I appreciated it."

Naminé looked back, nodding before ducking her head into the fridge. He didn't seem affected, so why should she show that she was? She rummaged around before pulling out the Tupperware containing the leftovers from the dinner she cooked.

"Uh, here you go," she said, thrusting the plastic box at him. "I made dinner for us, and this is what's left of it."

Sora took the container before smiling. "Thanks again. Wow, so you're a healer and you can cook? What can't you do?"

Naminé almost felt like giggling. It was like she was back in high school when the popular quarterback had smiled at her in the hallway. Where had her common sense gone? She cleared her throat, again.

"Well, uh, I guess I'll be going to bed now. Um, enjoy, I guess?" she said, before backing out of the kitchen. "It was nice meeting you," she continued. "I'll, uh, see you again! Goodnight."

"Night, Naminé," he called out after her, smile still firmly affixed to his face.

Naminé clambered up the stairs, not a thought in her head about noise, and made her way into her bedroom and closing the door, backing up against it. She rested her head against the cool wood before sliding down into a heap of nerves on the floor. What was she doing, acting like a teenager? She was 24 years old, for crying out loud. She could handle attraction.

Besides, she wasn't here to find a guy: she was here to get paid to have a baby, nothing else. She picked herself up and fell onto the bed, snuggling up against the pillow. She reached out and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging her world into darkness.

She was not looking for love, attention, or anything of the kind. She was going to take this opportunity to figure out what to do with her life, nothing more.

So why did it feel so awful to just dismiss Sora? And why did he have to be so cute? Naminé whined in her throat.

This was not good.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed and please review if you can. Thanks for all of the support I've received so far. It means so much to me.


	4. The Part Where I Go Home

**Disclaimer: Yeah, it's totally mine. That's why I'm still living with my parents and working part time at Wal-mart. Because I want to, not because I have to. Yeah...**

**A/N: For those who read the last chapter of 'It's Complicated' and also read this, too, then you'll know this was coming today. I'd written about half of it and I since I said I'd upload it today, I stayed up late last night, banging out the last half. This also happens to be one of the longest chapters for this story. I don't know, the words just kept coming, right up until about the last 500 words. Couldn't figure out where to go with that to a satisfactory ending. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter. Again, you guys rock, and I love you all. Every time you read it gives me a rush!**

**Suggested Listening: 'Home' by Girls Love Shoes**

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Part Where I Go Home**

* * *

Naminé awoke in a tangle of sheets, the cotton pajamas riding up her legs uncomfortably, her hand pressed beneath the pillow. She hadn't woken up so well-rested in years. Her eyes blinked open, amazed at how long she'd been asleep. That was something else she hadn't done in a long while. Her body almost ached with it. It was all the more satisfying.

She worked her way free of the blankets, rising to her feet and nearly swayed back onto the bed as her head swam dizzily. Apparently, her body just wasn't all that used to good food and lots of sleep. Still, her equilibrium steadied soon enough and she got her feet back under her.

Naminé shuffled over to the dresser and peered into the mirror above it. Her cheeks were flushed becomingly and her eyes were hazy with sleep. She even looked better than she had in years, although, as she poked a cheek with one finger, she still looked thin and unhealthy. It was a step in the right direction, though, and all because she was willing to sell her womb.

That just sounded so… mercenary, though. Naminé shied away from the thought, unwilling to think about the implications of what she was doing. She would dwell on the positives only. She bit her lip, still looking in the mirror and turned her head to each side. Her hair was dull and stringy and the smudge of dirt was still on her collarbone. When was the last time she had showered? Surreptitiously raising her arm and sniffing underneath, Naminé decided it had been long enough.

Opening her door, she peeked around the jamb and looked around. Finding no one around, Naminé frowned. She couldn't hear anything, either. She walked out and then went down the stairs, still peering around. She finally found someone in the kitchen.

"Eep," she emitted as she scuttled out of view of Sora, who had his back to her and was talking to Roxas, who had definitely seen her, judging by the grin on his face.

"Hey, hold on just a sec, Sora," he said, skirting around his brother and ducking out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Naminé," he said, grinning at the thin girl trying to press herself into the wall.

"H-hi, Roxas," she whispered. "Um… I just wanted to know if I could take a shower," she continued, steadfastly refusing to look behind Roxas at the kitchen entrance. Sure, Sora had seen her in her pajamas just the night before, and Roxas could hardly know about that… unless Sora had told him. Oh, what if Sora had told Roxas? She'd _die_.

It was bad enough at night, seeing a gorgeous guy while she looked like she did, but it was at night and he could hardly have seen much, especially since he was more preoccupied with the wound she'd pretty much given him. Today was morning and light streamed from every huge window Roxas and Axel owned and she was sure the impression she was making was anything but sexy. She moaned a little in her throat.

"Sure, Naminé," Roxas said, unaware of Naminé's internal struggle, "The hall bathroom is just upstairs, two doors on your left. There should be clean towels. We don't have any clothes for you, obviously, but you can put your dress back on and we'll go get some of your other things later, okay?"

"Okay, thanks," she said, scurrying away as quickly as her legs could take her. Could that have been any worse?

And why was she even worrying!? It didn't matter, not at all. This was just terrible, absolutely horrible. Roxas would be so offended if he knew she was getting all squishy on the inside over Sora. She was not a teenager anymore: she could handle attraction perfectly well no matter how inexperienced she currently was.

Naminé continued to admonish herself all the way into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and dropping her pajamas in the little basket against the wall. Stepping into the stall, she turned the water on hot and sighed as the pulses of water sluiced over her hair and down her body. What was it about something as simple as a shower that could make a girl feel human in a way she hadn't felt in a long time?

She turned a curious eye to the bottles in front of her. She snorted when she saw that the shampoo and conditioner bottles were the tiny travel size editions left in hotel rooms. Axel and Roxas were hotel bottle thiefs! She never would have thought they'd be the type. She'd certainly never done it.

Still, that didn't stop her from grabbing a bottle, popping it open, sniffing and then dumping all of the contents into the palm of her hand. She'd need every little bit for her hair: desperate measures and all that.

Thirty minutes later, Naminé stepped out to a humid bathroom, every surface covered in a fine layer of dew and the mirror fogged over. She felt considerably better. Amazing, really. She stuck her head around the door and then ran to her bedroom, shutting the door quickly.

Staying in a strange home with people she'd met just the day before felt oddly surreal. She wondered over why she didn't feel more insecure. Considering she'd only known them a day, she felt safe around them, like they'd never do anything to hurt her. More than likely, they weren't, but to not trust strangers had been nearly the first rule she'd been taught. But she was jumping off the building and so far she hadn't fallen yet.

She'd just have to trust her instincts.

She slipped her sadly wrinkled white dress on and stepped into the blue wedge heels she'd worn, feeling a little bit more ready to face the day. She'd even managed to find a brush on the dresser table, so her hair was at least brushed, although still dripping wet down her back. But Naminé had long ago lost concern for how her hair looked beyond being brushed. Buckets of grease tended to keep it flat anyway.

Walking down the stairs, Naminé peered around, curious to see what Axel and Roxas' home looked like, since she'd been too tired the night before to do more than take a cautious peek around. Now, she felt a little more at home, a little more welcome and she didn't mind peering into doors, finding a study on the ground floor, as well as what could only be a formal living room and the dining room she'd seen the night before that went into the eat-in kitchen.

From there, sitting at the table, she found Sora and Roxas, both sipping from coffee mugs, although it obviously wasn't coffee they were drinking, since she couldn't smell any coffee roasting.

"Hey," she said, interrupting them. They turned to smile at her and Naminé couldn't help but think that it was just so unfair. They were prettier than her! Thick eyelashes that ringed the same shade of azure with spiky hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed since they woke up but somehow seemed to work for them anyway; the only thing that seemed to set the two apart were their hair colors, Roxas with blond hair and Sora a dark brown.

"Well, hey!" Roxas said, Sora smiling beside him. "Feel more human, huh? You certainly look better."

"I feel better," she replied, coming over and sitting down across from the two. She smiled. "There's nothing like shedding a layer of dirt to make you feel better."

"I'll bet," Sora interjected, taking a sip from his mug. "You look like a decent breakfast might help you even more." He put down his mug. "What would you like?" he went on as he got up, moving over to the fridge and pulling it open.

"Uh, I'll take cereal, if you have any. I don't want to put you to work."

Sora waved off her concerns. "How about I make you some pancakes instead? Do you like chocolate chips?" he asked, pulling out a familiar yellow bag from the pantry next to the fridge.

She smiled. So much for her idea! "I love chocolate chips."

"Great! You know, Roxas didn't want me to make them but I'm craving them like mad, so you're just giving me a perfect excuse!" Sora said, pouring a few cups of flour into a clear bowl.

"I'm happy to be of service," Naminé said, smiling.

Roxas shrugged. "I'm not a fan of heavy breakfasts, myself. Give me some chocolate," he said, holding his mug up, "and I'm good to go."

"I like food," Naminé said. "I'll take whatever I can get, pretty much."

"Then you make my job easy!" Sora said, tearing into the bag of chips. Soon enough, he was placing a stack of steaming pancakes in front of her.

She stared at the huge stack. "Are you trying to fatten me up? I can't eat all of that."

Roxas snickered. "He likes to feed people and feed them well. Eat what you can: he'll probably polish off the rest."

"Oh, uh-uh, you eat that entire stack, Nami," Sora said, dropping his own plate down at the table. "You're too skinny; need a little bit more meat on those bones."

He'd called her Nami. She started at the name and almost dropped her fork. It was almost bittersweet. No one had called her Nami since her father had died. She hadn't wanted anyone to. But when coming from Sora's lips, it felt natural. She liked it.

"I think I should feel offended."

Still, it felt nice to have someone care. She'd been alone for so long, she'd forgotten what it felt like. Instead of being offended, some place in her stomach started to warm and thrum. She could get used to this.

And that thought dampened the warmth. She _could_ get used to this, of course. Naminé knew that that wasn't a good idea, however. There were too many ifs, too many things that could go wrong. What if she didn't get pregnant? If she didn't, would Roxas and Axel even be okay with her staying? They certainly wouldn't pay her for something she couldn't deliver, literally. On the opposite side, suppose she did get pregnant. She'd be around for nine months, have the baby, and then would still have to leave.

The thought of having this family was nice… but it wasn't permanent and Naminé understood that all too well.

Sitting on Roxas' couch with her legs curled up under her, Naminé sighed in contentment. Her belly was full, her skin was clean and if she turned her head just slightly, she'd be able to smell the shampoo scent waft from her hair. She hadn't felt this good in years and it almost stunned her how human she felt now. When you lost something, it was natural to miss it and then become so used to its absence that you never noticed the difference.

But now she noticed and Naminé almost felt like she was glowing, she was so content. It was almost pathetic, she thought. Something so simple, something people often took for granted, and it made her light up like a Christmas tree. At least, she mused, her priorities were simple and straight-forward. Keep me clean, fed, and clothed and you shall have my undying loyalty; or, in Naminé's case, her unborn baby.

Again, Naminé shied away from that thought. All it did was cause her to doubt and she knew it was too soon to tell if anything would go as planned. Why worry before she had to?

Roxas pulled her out of her musings as he sat next to her, Sora settling down on recliner beside the couch she was on.

"So, Naminé, we need to grab some of your clothes. I figured today would be as good a time as any. There's a lot we have to figure out and it'd be better if you just stayed with us for now."

Naminé turned to look at him. "Well, I have no objections to that, but are you sure that's what you want to do? How do you know I'm not going to hurt you?

Roxas snorted in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You look like a feather could knock you over; forget overpowering Axel or me. Besides, I have no reason to distrust you at this point."

"Plus, there's plenty of room," Sora interjected. "You'll like living here. I almost want to move in myself, but I did the whole living-with-my-brother routine for twenty years and I like not having to do it now."

Naminé laughed. It wasn't particularly funny, but there was just something about Sora's smile and the twinkle of his eyes that made a person want to join him and laugh, too. She couldn't resist.

"So, anyway, we've got some errands to run, yes?" Roxas said.

She smiled, painful tears threatening to rise in her eyes. She was so grateful, more than they'd ever be able to understand.

"Okay, I'd like that. Thank you," she answered, laying a hand over Roxas' and squeezing.

"Great!" he said, springing up and pulling her up with him. "Let's get going!"

Sora got up, too, and the trio made their way out to the car and got in, Sora relegated to the back in order for Naminé to give directions.

But the levity Naminé felt didn't last long before shame began to creep in. They were on her way to her crappy apartment. She knew it didn't matter; that Roxas knew how poor she was.

But Roxas wasn't the reason she was ashamed. She hated Sora seeing it, because Sora didn't have the first clue about her. What would he think of her when he saw her one room efficiency?

Would he gaze at it and judge her as he hadn't before? Would he pass a critical eye over the nasty grout in her counters and the tuft of cotton batting battling its way out of her couch? Worse yet, would she find her items dumped to the curb like the trash everyone thought she was? The landlord had made no secret of the fact that he hated her and he had evicted her without provocation.

Why wouldn't he get rid of her things? Naminé hated that thought, hated the burn of shame in her gut and the agony of the guilt clogging her lungs. She hated that she thought this way, hated that she didn't have better confidence in the person she'd become.

She knew she wasn't trash. Logically, she was able to tell herself this, able to ignore the deafening stares from people who thought themselves her better, but it was so much harder when it was someone she cared about.

Naminé didn't want Sora to judge her. Didn't want him to hate her or pity her or even just ignore it like he hadn't seen anything. She knew she wasn't being rational, though, because her wants didn't leave Sora many options and it wasn't like he could read her mind anyway.

They were able to tell she was tense, though, and soon the stream of chatter had trickled down to nothing, and they spent the rest of the trip in silence.

All too soon, the car had pulled up to a curb and Naminé stared at the building she'd reluctantly called home for two years. She let out a soft sigh. There's nothing like the present to get over an irrational fear.

Stepping out of the car, she hurried to the entrance, steadfastly refusing to look behind her to see Roxas or Sora's reactions.

At least luck was on her side and her things still looked to be in her apartment. It all could have been taken away all ready, but Naminé wanted to look at things on the bright side. Chances were in her favor this time.

She took them past the lobby, which featured peeling wallpaper and scuffed floors, into an elevator that creaked and groaned and down a threadbare carpet with flickering lights lining the walls, finally stopping in front of a door that held another eviction notice.

Naminé frowned, growling as she yanked the paper off her door. She crumpled it into a ball, before turning around and smiling forcefully at Roxas and Sora.

"If you guys want," she started, "you can stay out here while I gather some clothes."

Roxas looked around. "That's okay; we'll come in with you."

Sora just smiled. "Won't you need some help?"

She just smiled. She needed all the help in the world.

Letting them in took more than she thought it would. Opening the door and cringing at the draft of stale air that wafted out, she felt like running in and shutting the door behind her. Why bother coming out, too, while she was at it? Just crawl underneath her couch and stay there to rot. Surely the landlord wouldn't mind, right?

She pushed her shoulders back. Let them see. What was the worst that could happen?

Swinging the door wide, she stepped past the threshold and made a beeline for the dresser that also served as her TV stand. She still had the book bag she'd used in high school and she grabbed it from the coffee table as she moved past it. Opening drawers, she began to stuff all she could find in the bag, not bother to look at all she took out. She couldn't finish this fast enough.

"Hey, Naminé, what about this other stuff?"

She turned to Sora's voice; he was standing next to her couch, a sheepish grin crossing his face.

He was gesturing to her furniture. She looked around at the things that she had lived with. She didn't want any of it.

"No, let's just leave it. There's nothing here I want," she answered, going back to the dresser and the clothes.

"Are you sure?" Roxas asked. He was in her quasi-kitchen, rummaging through her cupboards. "We can rent a storage unit to put your furniture into while you stay with us?"

Naminé grimaced. She couldn't stand the thought of being in debt to him like that. Besides, looking at her things next to Sora and Roxas, she knew there was nothing she'd want to hold on to.

And then she spotted her VHS copy of Beauty and the Beast. Although her TV didn't work, and VCRs didn't exist anymore, practically, she couldn't bear the thought of parting with it. She'd never been able to sell it.

She grabbed it quickly and stuffed it in between the folds of her jeans. She also grabbed the bills from her coffee table, knowing that she had responsibilities, still, that she'd need to handle. She couldn't leave them behind.

"Well," she said with a lighter skip in her voice, "I think that's just about it."

Sora and Roxas exchanged a look she couldn't interpret then looked to her. "If you're sure?" Roxas asked.

Naminé sighed, touched by their indecision. "Yeah, I'm sure," she replied. "I've left that part of my life behind. It's better to keep it in the past."

They stepped out of the apartment and she closed the door.

"The landlord can trash it for all I care."

She didn't know where she was going to go after all of this, but she knew it wouldn't be back here. She was better than this and it was time she started to think that and believe it. All of this she could leave behind without a glance behind her.


End file.
